


Trepidation

by sexmoneyfeelingsdie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Days, He isn't straight either, Hurt/Comfort, Kyoutani aggresively cares about Yahaba, M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Panic Attacks, Shirabu is a good friend, Thunderstorms, Yahaba is bad at feelings, Yahaba is straight up not having a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29462259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexmoneyfeelingsdie/pseuds/sexmoneyfeelingsdie
Summary: panic:[noun]sudden uncontrollable fear or anxiety, often causing wildly unthinking behaviour.-Yahaba finds himself sinking, only to resurface in the arms of Kyoutani.
Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 124





	Trepidation

**Author's Note:**

> TW: panic attack

Yahaba Shigeru was having a bad day. In the morning, he received his Modern Japanese test back, which he had stayed up the whole night before to revise, just to find that he had just barely passed. At midday, he found that he had left his lunch at home and resorted to stealing some of Kyoutani’s— they had become unlikely friends ever since the fateful Karasuno versus Seijoh match. His classes weren’t much better either, he kept zoning out, so when the teacher called on him to answer a question, he had stuttered incoherently and had to excuse himself out of embarrassment. 

By the time practice had started, Yahaba was too distracted by everything and could barely get in a few steady sets (and if Watari pointed out the way Yahaba stared as Kyoutani’s shirt tightened around his chest whenever he went to spike, he would deny it). Oikawa had flashed him an occasional look of concern, which deepened his frustration; he didn’t want his captain to see his misplaced sets and he definitely didn’t need his pity. 

To his dismay, the end of practice wasn’t too much of a relief either. Although he was able to avoid Oikawa to prevent the third year from questioning him, the sky had become dark and gloomy, and looked like it was about to rain at any given moment. The three second years had quickly decided to take shelter at Kyoutani’s home, which was closest to the school, but a few streets away from safety, the sky had opened and poured down rain, heavy and wet. 

Yahaba exits the bathroom half dressed with a white towel around his neck, after having taken a shower. Watari’s father had come to pick him up right before the rain had worsened and the libero had kindly offered to give Yahaba a lift home, but the setter had refused to leave without taking a shower and fixing his hair, much to Kyoutani’s displeasure. 

“There’s a hair dryer in the top draw. Use it.” Kyoutani grumbles.

Yahaba grins. “Aw, Kyouken-chan, you do care!”

Kyoutani’s glare could kill. “One day, when you say that, I’m gonna think that you’re Oikawa and punch you in the face.”

Yahaba laughs, shaking his head. He brushes against Kyoutani on his way out of the bathroom. “As if you would ever punch Iwaizumi-san’s boyfriend. Didn’t you have a crush on him?”

“On Oikawa? Are you fucking kidding?”

Yahaba laughs again. “You know exactly who I meant.”

Kyoutani turns a dark shade of red and almost pouts, which Yahaba somehow finds extremely endearing. Though, he values his life, so he would never say so out loud. Kyoutani folds his arms over his chest and leans on the door frame as Yahaba pulls a clean shirt over his head. After taking a moment to compose himself, Kyoutani speaks up.

“Iwaizumi-san’s just so fuckin’ cool, you know?” 

Yahaba finds himself nodding. Iwaizumi is pretty amazing; he’s strong and fast but also caring and is able to maintain a level head, even in situations that Oikawa himself couldn’t handle. Yahaba finds himself realising that he’s nothing like Iwaizumi. It feels like a kick to the stomach, although he can’t seem to understand why. He swallows, and looks back to Kyoutani, who’s staring off into the distance with a look of adoration and amazement imprinted on his face. 

“Go and find me a jacket, will you?” Yahaba asks. He’s starting to feel the strain from his bad day taking its effect on him. “It’s fucking cold and dark out there. And still raining.”

“You didn’t bring a jacket.” Kyoutani points out. His eyes wander around the room, in case Yahaba had brought a jacket and he just didn’t notice it.

“Then get me one. Or can’t you, since I’m not Iwaizumi-san?” Yahaba can’t help himself; he’s always been petty. Honestly, he blames his time spent with Shirabu. He doesn’t drag his eyes up from where they were staring at the floor.

He expects Kyoutani to snap back, or yell, or worse- question him on his behaviour. But Kyoutani does none of those things. Instead, he gives a soft half-hearted shrug before leaving the room, and Yahaba can already feel guilt settling into his stomach. He didn’t mean to bitch to him and he doesn’t even know why he did, but whether he understands it or not, the fact that he just threw a hissy fit to Kyoutani remains unchanged. The guilt has settled at the base of his stomach and is slowly unravelling, creating a messy, tangled string of emotions that Yahaba doesn’t understand.

He just feels bad. 

Kyoutani’s return to the room startles Yahaba, and he spins around, eyes wide and body tense. Kyoutani’s taken one step into the room. His face is an expression of confusion and in his left hand is a black, crumpled up jacket, which Yahaba recognises as Kyoutani’s favourite jacket. He feels the guilt sink deeper. He wants to turn and run, but Kyoutani’s standing in the doorway. Kyoutani then reaches a hand out, before letting his arm drop back to his side. He looks concerned, and Yahaba’s so, so confused. The lights are bright. He feels warm.

“Shigeru,” Kyoutani mutters. His voice is quiet, almost soft, yet still unwavering as usual. “Shigeru, what is it?”

Yahaba suddenly finds that he can’t breathe. No, that’s wrong; he can breathe, but he can’t feel the oxygen in his lungs. His chest tightens and then he realises why Kyoutani looks so panicked. Yahaba’s crying, tears dripping down his face and his body is shaking. He looks at his hands and realises he’s trembling. He’s shaking so badly, and his knees give out from under him. Kyoutani makes a strangled noise from the back of his throat and darts towards Yahaba, jacket dropped and left forgotten by the door. 

“Listen, listen. Can you hear me? What do you need?” Kyoutani asks. His composure is slipping. “Do you need me to call Oikawa? Or Watari?”

Yahaba sobs, hands over his ears, nails scratching into his scalp, gripping at his own hair. He shakes his head the best he can, stuttering over his words. “Li-lights. C-call Shirabu. Phone, b-bag.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be right back, don’t fucking move.” Kyoutani orders, rushing towards the light switch. 

With a quiet ‘click’, the room darkens, expelling all light sources. Then, Yahaba can hear rustling around him as Kyoutani rummages through his school bag, in search for Yahaba’s phone. The only light in the room is from the illumination of the screen as Kyoutani scroll through the contacts, frowning as he squints to read through the contacts.

“Kenjirou? Shirabu Kenjirou? Is this him?” Kyoutani asks, kneeling next to Yahaba, who now has his forehead pressed against the floor and his knees drawn to his chest. He nods weakly. Kyoutani slams his finger on the call button, listening to the ringing on the other side of the line as he waits for Shirabu to pick up. On the fourth ring, there’s a voice.

“What do you want, Shigeru? I’m about to get laid, so fuck off.” Shirabu says. There’s another voice in the background.

“Uh,” Kyoutani blinks. “It’s not Yahaba, I, uh, I’m Kyoutani.”

Silence. Then after a moment, Shirabu’s voice is heard again, only muffled. “Eita, I’ll be a while, just shut up and wait.” 

A complain is heard in the background of Shirabu’s line but a loud ‘thump’ and an even louder complain indicates that Shirabu has just thrown something at his partner. Then his voice comes back again, clearer than the previous time. “What happened? Is the fucker okay?”

Kyoutani hesitates. “He’s shaking and I think he’s, uh, still crying. He said to call you?”

Shirabu seemed to understand what was happening. “Have you turned off the lights?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Have you tried talking to him?”

“Saying what?”

“Ask him about the weather,” Shirabu says, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “No, jackass, ask him if he can tell you what’s wrong.”

“Uh, okay. Wait a second.”

Kyoutani doesn’t hang up the phone but pulls it down from his ear. He can see that Yahaba is still shaking, eyes screwed shut as tears still drip from his face. Kyoutani places a warm, reassuring hand onto Yahaba’s back, patting gently. 

“Hey, uh, Shirabu’s on the phone. Do you wanna talk to him or some shit?”

Yahaba seems unresponsive at first. Then, he weakly lifts his head from the floor to look at Kyoutani. There are tears resting on his eyelashes. Kyoutani’s chest tightens. 

“Kyoutani-kun?” Shirabu asks. “Still there?”

Kyoutani raises the phone to his ear. “Yeah, yeah, I’m still here. I asked him if he wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, of course he doesn’t.” Shirabu scoffs. “I’m an asshole.”

“He did tell me to call you.” Kyoutani points out. 

“Whatever. Don’t let him stay on the floor. He’ll get cold.” Shirabu instructs. “But don’t move him unless he moves a little himself or you’ll make it worse.”

“Okay. What do I do now?”

“Wait for him to move. Talk to him to pull him out of his thoughts.”

“Talk about what?”

“Anything. Volleyball, school, anything.” Shirabu says. “Something that’ll calm him down.”

“That doesn’t help.” Kyoutani scowls, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Well, the other option is to physically comfort him. And I don’t mean emotional sex, or anything like that.”

Kyoutani snorts in mild amusement. “I wasn’t even thinking anything close to that.”

“You never know. But yeah, it’ll help against his sensory overload. Just hold him or some shit. I think he likes his hair being stroked or something. Don’t overdo it. Keep him warm.”

“Okay. Last thing, uh, how long will this last for?” Kyoutani asks, already moving his free hand to entwine his fingers with Yahaba’s hair. The other boy is sitting up now, back against the wall and arms and legs weakly sprawled out around him. The front of his shirt is stained with tears. He’s staring at the floor, but his eyes look completely zoned out.

“Hm. I guess that depends on what triggered him. Best case, it should be easing up right about now. Worst case, another half an hour or so.”

Kyoutani exhales softly. “Okay. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And after this, if I find out that you’re the one that caused this, me and my stupid boyfriend will come after your ass.” Shirabu says, an evident threat despite his sweet tone. “Call me after to let me know he’s okay.”

He hangs up soon after and the room falls completely silent except for Yahaba’s jagged breaths.

“Hey,” Kyoutani says, after a moment. “I’m gonna come sit by you, so don’t flip your shit, okay?”

Yahaba doesn’t move for a second, but he then moves his left arm into his lap and shuffles his left leg over, making space for Kyoutani, who stands up and repositions himself next to Yahaba. Neither of them say anything, sitting in silence. Yahaba sniffles and hiccups, before hesitantly dropping his head onto Kyoutani’s shoulder, his movements slow and shaky. Kyoutani grunts before using his right arm to quickly pull Yahaba’s head to rest against his shoulder. He keeps his arm draped over Yahaba. 

Up close, Kyoutani can see the redness of Yahaba’s eyes, and his tear-stained cheeks. He can see the redness of his skin, from where he had dug his nails into his neck and the faint traces of blood under Yahaba’s nails. He feels his throat tightening up, and swallows harshly. Yahaba weakly raises a hand towards Kyoutani’s, and despite his usual hesitance for physical touch, Kyoutani roughly grips Yahaba’s hand and runs his own hand through Yahaba’s hair, just as Shirabu had advised. 

His hair is tousled from his shaking and crying, so Kyoutani smooths over a strand of messy hair, raking his finger over and over the same spot. Yahaba seems to untense under the warm touch, exhaling softly as his body presses more tightly against Kyoutani’s. He had been subtly exaggerating his breaths, in hope that Yahaba would subconsciously notice and steady his own breathing, and it seemed to have worked since Yahaba’s breaths seemed more controlled. 

“Sorry…” Yahaba weakly mumbles, his voice barely audible.

Kyoutani frowns and finds himself tightening his grip on the other boy. “What? Why? Don’t be stupid.”

“For w-what I said about Iwaizumi-san.” Yahaba hiccups, increasing Kyoutani’s confusion.

“I have literally no idea what you’re on about,” Kyoutani says, in genuine bewilderment. “C’mon asshole, I’ll get you a drink and-“

“No!” Yahaba exclaims, digging his nails into Kyoutani’s palm. Realising this, he immediately loosens his grip. 

“Okay,” Kyoutani says, slowly and uncertain. “What do you want, then?”

Yahaba screws his eyes shut. “I was apologising about…what I said about Iwaizumi-san. When I asked you to get me a jacket.”

“Oh, that?” Kyoutani shrugs. “I don’t really care. I don’t still have feelings for him, if you’re worried about embarrassing me, or whatever.”

“I-I didn’t mean to bitch to you,” Yahaba says, eyes still shut. “I can’t help it. I know I shouldn’t have but-“

“It’s fine,” Kyoutani says, elbowing Yahaba slightly. “Seriously, I really don’t care.”

When tears well up in Yahaba’s eyes again, Kyoutani grabs the side of his jaw to force Yahaba to make eye contact and repeats himself.

Yahaba looks frustrated. “That’s not the point. I still shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You even got me your favourite jacket, for fuck’s sake.”

Kyoutani quirks an eyebrow. “How’d you know that’s my favourite one?”

Yahaba blinks, forgetting his distress for a moment. “You always wear it after training. And to practice matches.”

Kyoutani doesn’t reply for a moment before chuckling. Yahaba looks at him in confusion. Then, something clicks in Kyoutani’s head. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “That you said that. I know you feel bad about it and shit, but it’s okay. I always knew you were a bitchy little shit anyway, so it’s okay.”

Yahaba lets out a shaky giggle. “Is that your way of making me feel better?”

“Yes. Shut up.”

Yahaba giggles again, this time more audibly. “Very comforting.”

“It’s hard for you to explain how you just felt, right?” Kyoutani asks. Yahaba nods in response. “Then don’t. You don’t have to. Just…don’t feel bad about yourself over shit you think might offend me. Because it won’t.”

Yahaba stares at Kyoutani for a second, before nodding. “Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence, before Yahaba speaks up.

“Kentarou?”

Kyoutani tenses slightly. “What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Kyoutani turns to face Yahaba, eyes wide with shock, to find Yahaba staring back with a serious — and hopeful — expression. He blinks, before nodding slowly. His breath hitches when Yahaba leans over and carefully tilts his head slightly. 

Yahaba tastes likes salt, Kyoutani finds. He assumes it’s from the tears that were still imprinted on his skin. But Yahaba also tastes sweet, like the apple flavoured sweets that Kyoutani had bought for him in the morning, on their way to school. Yahaba’s lips are soft, whilst his are chapped and rough, but Yahaba doesn’t seem to mind as he slips his hand around the side of Kyoutani’s face, thumb caressing his jawline. Kyoutani’s hands have found their way back into Yahaba’s hair and his fingers are entwining between the soft strands of hair.

It’s not perfect, with his hands clumsily tugging at Yahaba’s hair, or with Yahaba tracing shaky lines across Kyoutani’s jaw, but something about it feels perfect, nonetheless. With a small gasp, Yahaba pulls back as Kyoutani grazes his bottom lip with his teeth. 

He grins. “Guess you aren’t all bark and no bite, right, Kyouken-chan?”

Kyoutani groans and shoves Yahaba’s shoulder, eyeing him in mock annoyance. “I’m gonna call Shirabu.”

Yahaba lets out a scandalised gasp, playfully slapping Kyoutani’s arm. “How can you be thinking of another man right now?”

Kyoutani groans again and reaches for Yahaba’s phone. “He said to call him afterwards to tell him that you’re okay.”

“Really?” Yahaba’s eyes seem to light up slightly. “Aw, I knew he cared.”

“He was with someone called Eita,” Kyoutani recalls. “I think they were about to fuck.”

“So vulgar,” Yahaba chides. “Semi Eita, huh? I remember that he and Shirabu were having some kind of not-friends with benefits relationship.”

“He called him his boyfriend earlier,” Kyoutani shrugs. “So I guess their hate sex led to something.”

“Best not to call him right now,” Yahaba advises. “Unless you wanna hear them—”

“Nope,” Kyoutani interrupts, slamming the phone towards Yahaba, who giggles. “I’m good.” 

-

After ordering an unnecessary amount of takeout, bickering over what to movie to watch and a few occasional shy kisses, both Kyoutani and Yahaba fall asleep on the couch, the taller boy lying on top of Kyoutani, with his head pressed against the other’s chest. The movie still plays on the screen, left forgotten. Kyoutani, ever the light sleeper, hears the soft vibrations of Yahaba’s phone and goes to pick it up. Shirabu’s name is displayed across the illuminated screen, so he decides to pick up, lowering his voice to a hushed tone. 

“Shigeru?” 

“No, it’s me.”

“Oh, Kyoutani-kun,” Shirabu says. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” Kyoutani lies. “What’s up?”

“How is he?” He asks. “Is he sleeping?”

“Uh,” Kyoutani looks down at Yahaba, who remains unmoving, hand pressed flat, resting on Kyoutani’s bicep. “Yeah, I think so.”

Amusement creeps into Shirabu’s voice. “Are you sleeping with him?”

Kyoutani ignores the heat rushing to his face. “He’s sleeping on me. Heavy bastard.”

Shirabu laughs. “I’ll leave you to it then. Tell him to call me in the morning.”

“Alright.” Kyoutani finds his eyes beginning to shut, heavy with sleep.

“Kyoutani-kun?”

“What?”

“Do you like him?”

Kyoutani pauses for a moment. It wasn’t the first time he was admitting it out loud. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Kyoutani-kun.” Shirabu sounds pleased. 

“Night.” He responds, before hanging up and dropping the phone back to the table, where empty takeout containers lie, untidied. 

His eyes are already shut, so he doesn’t see the light smile pulling at Yahaba’s lips as he curls more tightly against Kyoutani, relishing the warmth radiating from his body.

**Author's Note:**

> Panic attacks can be hard but there's always calm at the eye of the storm :) I hope you've enjoyed reading, and thank you to Kemi for proof reading+editing my work for me once again!


End file.
